


Fireworks

by halzbarryscerek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: College AU, FSA Week, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 03:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4944619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halzbarryscerek/pseuds/halzbarryscerek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott was determined to spend his Fourth of July trying to finish his summer assignment, but his night doesn't go as planned when a firework suddenly bursts through his window.</p><p>Inspired by this <a href="http://imagineyourotp.tumblr.com/post/43687475049/imagine-your-otp-meeting-for-the-first-time">prompt</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

> I was so late with this. I wanted to write something for Fuck Scerek Anon Week (which is the greatest idea in the history of great ideas), but I felt so uninspired and I've been in a bit of a writing slump.
> 
> Anyway, you guys don't care about my problems, so I'mma leave you with some Sciles fluffiness. I'm hoping to post a Scerek fic later on today.

Scott doesn't usually like Independence Day. It wasn't that he was anti-America or anything like that, he just hated all of the rambunctious noise from drunks blowing their fireworks in the streets, hooping and hollering like a bunch of idiot monkeys.

And if anything, on this day of days, Scott needed to concentrate on his summer assignment for his class. Scott knew himself; if he didn't start now, he wasn't ever going to finish it. Hell, the assignment was posted a month ago and he hadn't so much as pulled up a Word document.

But not today, no sir! Scott was serious this time. He was going to do this assignment in time to go back to his daily routine of not doing anything.

Scott stared blankly at the empty Word document, a familiar sight, and sighed to himself.

"Maybe if I play a couple of hours of _Smash Bros_., that'll spark some inspiration," he had reasoned to himself. Sounded logical.

Just as he was about to head over to the living room to hook up the Wii, a crashing sound came in through his window, scaring the absolute shit out of him.

At first, he thought it might have been a burglar or maybe some frat brothers were so drunk, they were tossing rocks at each other and one of them ended up getting acquainted with Scott's window.

But then he saw bright, red sparks and billowy smoke, and he finally realized that someone had popped a fucking firework through his window!

"Holy shit!" he cried out as he made a beeline for the kitchen and fished out a pitcher from the cupboard to fill it with water.

Someone had started pounding on his door, but he ignored it because there was a goddamn fire in his living room. After effectively putting out the flames, which had left a nasty black spot on his white carpet, he finally turned to whoever was smashing their fists against the door as if they were running from a serial killer.

There was some gangly-looking guy at the door, sporting a buzz cut and some trashy-looking graphic tee you'd get for five bucks at strip club, which he thankfully kept hidden under a red flannel shirt, and for some reason, his belt was unbuckled and the top button of his jeans was undone. If Scott was being honest, though, the guy was pretty cute.

"Ho- ... -ly crap," the guy squeaked, drawing out the words as his eyes widened at the sight of smoke and burns.

Scott glared at him. "Did you do this?" he asked, tone accusing.

The guy gulped dramatically. "Did what?" he replied stupidly.

Without a second thought, Scott grabbed the guy and dragged him into his house.

"I can explain. My name is Lance McManus, I'm a marine biologist and I'm studying the effects of chemicals in fireworks and how they're hazardous to the ozone layer."

"None of that made any sense," Scott retorted. "What the fuck, bro? Look at my rug!"

"I didn't mean to! I was just fooling around with some friends and one of them dared me that I couldn't shoot a firework out of my butt and so I—"

Scott grimaced. "I don't really wanna hear the end of that."

"Well, I didn't actually get a chance to do it, the firework flew away before I could even pull my pants down, and ... well, you know the end."

Scott looked at him like he was an actual insane person. "Wouldn't it have made sense to light the firework _after_ you pull your pants down?"

The guy shrugged, curling his bottom lip in thought. "I guess. But then I would've burned my ass, and I like my ass. It helps get me free drinks down at Jungle."

"TMI, dude."

"Oh, no, I don't sleep with the guys, I just let them have a little taste, y'know? A few gropes here and there. Maybe some light hand-rubbies through my jeans."

"Dude, stop!"

The guy let out a nervous laugh, shyly rubbing the back of his head as he continued talking. "Sorry, I have this inability to pick up on social cues, like when to stop talking, and sometimes that annoys my friends and they have to lock me away in my dorm. Ever have that problem?"

"I live alone."

"Oh, you're so lucky. I wish I lived alone. I can't stand my roommates. One of them has a rock collection named after Republican presidential candidates and the other one has a computer he named after his dead grandmother. Like, future serial killers alert!"

Scott just blinked at him. At the rate the guy was talking, he was pretty sure he only managed to capture about half of whatever he was saying.

"I'm Stiles, by the way," he said with a smile, offering his hand.

Scott accepted the hand and introduced himself without question, and about midway through their friendly exchange, he remembered that this was the same guy who almost lit his place on fire.

He ripped his hand away and continued to glare at him. "And what about my rug? And my window?!"

Stiles didn't respond immediately, just chewed on his bottom lip as he glanced over at the burnt carpeting with a guilty expression playing on his face.

"I'm really sorry, dude. I can pay for it. My dad's the sheriff and he doesn't exactly have the greatest income—You'd think he'd get good pay for risking his life protecting this town, right? I mean, not like anything interesting happens in Beacon Hills, but still! I think I can maybe work out a few things. You got insurance? Do they have insurance for carpeting?"

"You're doing it again," Scott mumbled, interrupting the boy's rambling.

Stiles chuckled again. "Sorry."

Scott furrowed his brow. "Wait, you're Sheriff Stilinski's son?"

Stiles nodded happily.

"That's ... ironic."

The boy huffed. "Well, hardy har har!" Stiles crossed his arms. "I'll have you know I've only been charged three times in the last month. And I never committed any felonies ... that my dad knows of."

Scott felt the beginnings of a smile quirking on his lips, and Stiles definitely noticed because he was smiling right back.

"You have a nice smile," Stiles had said suddenly, almost as if he were in a trance. Suddenly his eyes went wide and his face begun to flush a bright red.

But if Scott was being honest, he was also blushing. "Th-thanks."

"Welcome," Stiles replied.

"Uhm, you know I was about to play _Smash Bros._ ," Scott began casually, "Did you ... wanna play?"

"Dude, I love _Smash Bros._!" Stiles exclaimed, "But I gotta get back to my friends. So rain check?"

Scott's face fell, but he nodded understandingly.

"But I swear I'm gonna pay for your window and your carpet."

Scott shook his head. "It's okay, bro. I know you didn't mean it."

"What? No way, dude. I just burned a hole into your rug. I'm gonna pay for it. No ifs, ands, or buts!"

Scott could tell by the look on his face that Stiles wasn't going to back down, so he nodded his head and saw Stiles to the door.

Before Stiles left, he stopped and asked, "Hey, maybe instead of _Smash Bros._ , you'd wanna go out for coffee or something?"

Scott could feel himself light up. "Yeah, dude. That'd be cool."

A goofy grin formed on Stiles' face. "Cool. I'll see you. And, uh, I promise I'll steer clear of shooting butt rockets at your apartment."

Scott let out a small laugh. "That'd be nice."

**Author's Note:**

> [Contact Me](http://hobroseyberry.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
>   
> 


End file.
